Paper People Burn Easier
by little red after the wolf
Summary: AU She wakes up one morning to a boy living in her closet. — gabe/natalie, henry/natalie (tw: drug use, tw: ableism)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So this was going to be good then it came out as shit? I'm so sorry.**

One day he's going to burn her whole world down with a smile. The sad thing is she'll never know.

* * *

Diana throws shit everywhere sometimes. And Natalie is _fine._ Diana crashes the car into mailboxes sometimes. And Natalie is _fine._ Diana freaks out at fucking Costco sometimes. And Natalie is _fine_ _._ Diana threatens to leave them sometimes. And Natalie is _fine._

As long as she can hear herself playing the piano, Natalie is fine.

It only hurts when there's screaming after all.

("You know you can't play over that, right?")

Of course she can play over it. Natalie Goodman can play over anything she has to to forget her mother needs to take a dozen pills everyday.

("No one believes that.")

She ignores him because what do dead boys who live in her closet know anyways? It's not crazy. She's not crazy. Her mother is crazy. Natalie is fine, goddamnit, Natalie is _fine._

("Crazy is genetic, Nat, you know that.")

It sounds like screeching but she slams down on the piano anyways. "No one fucking asked you!" She screams. They don't always fight like this.

That's her parents' job.

* * *

She has no fucking clue why he picked her closet to live in. (He likes to tell her he's alive but sometimes she hears him crying over his parents who say he's dead.)

("Are you ignoring me again?")

Natalie never stops ignoring him. It's for her own sanity.

("Really, Nat. Aren't you more mature than that?")

Some days he makes her think she's dying. She wonders if he knows that.

("And here I thought we could have a nice civil conversation.")

She doesn't even know his name.

("I'll tell you one day, Nat.")

She fucking hates how he knows what she's thinking. She hates a lot of things about the boy who lives in her closet.

* * *

He comes home with alcohol and she's not sure if he can even drink but she ignores the sloshing sounds and goes through her mountain of homework. She has to stop herself from muttering under her breath three times. It's just another thing that makes her hate herself.

("Only crazy people mutter under their breath.")

She grits her teeth at how unslurred his words are for all the drinking she swears he just did. "I know."

("So you accept it?")

Natalie steadies herself and the pencil snaps between her fingers. Talking to him is hell but he's the only company she has these days.

("Do you have friends, Natalie?")

"Fuck you," she tells him.

("I'm not drunk enough for that.")

She hates how ugly that makes her feel and doesn't respond for the rest of the night. The night seems to never end.

* * *

It's strange but she meets a living boy in the practice room. His name is Henry and she doesn't think talking to him makes her feel sick to her stomach. She prays that the boy in her closet won't be able to tell before she goes into her room.

But of course he can.

("You met a boy.")

Why does he always sound so furious when she speaks to a boy? "Don't rip this one's throat out. He's just a boy," she says calmly.

("Just a boy, huh? One that wants to fuck you.")

She grits her teeth and clenches her fists. "Is it _so_ hard to think that maybe someone wants to be my _friend?_ " Maybe it is. Natalie hasn't had a friend in awhile.

("So you want him to fuck you then?")

Her backpack goes flying at her closet. Of _course_ he steps out of its way. "Shut the fuck up! It's _none_ of your business who I want to fuck me or who wants to fuck me," she snaps.

("Do you want me to fuck you?")

"What?" She blinks.

("Do you want me to fuck you?")

Natalie takes a step back. "You're dead," she tells him, "you can't fuck anything."

For once, he stops talking to her.

* * *

Sometimes she wonders why no one ever hears her talking to the dead boy. She always stops right away because it might mean that Dan thinks she's crazy too.

Natalie doesn't want to be crazy. Natalie _isn't_ crazy.

("Are you sure about that?")

Her knuckles go white around her eraser. Diana is crazy. Diana throws shit, Diana screams, Diana talks about her brother like he's alive, Diana is crazy. Natalie can hear that she's crazy, Natalie can see that she's crazy, Natalie can fucking feel that she's crazy.

Mozart was crazy. Mozart was so fucking crazy — flat fucking crazy. But you couldn't tell. She can't hear how crazy Mozart was in his symphonies, she can't see it in the sheet music, she can't feel it when she plays his music.

("Maybe crazy isn't as obvious as you think it is, Nat.")

She's silent, so fucking silent. What if she is crazy? There's a dead boy in her closet and caffeine in her veins and her nails are ridden back from the piano all the time and she feels like she's breaking down. Is it such a stretch?

"I'm not crazy," she whispers.

("There's a difference between not being crazy and not wanting to be crazy.")

"You're dead," she says in a small voice.

("I am so alive.")

Why is it that she almost believes him?

* * *

She gets home from Henry's house an hour later than she'd told Diana but no one says a word. Her parents are having a breakdown again. Other people notice though.

Dead people. Or not so dead people. She doesn't fucking know anymore.

("You're early.")

She ignores him. Now is not the time to talk to him. Not while her head is spinning — fucking _spinning._ Like in those weird, awful cliche teenage movies where they cast thirty year olds as seventeen.

("Did he kiss you?")

No, he didn't kiss her. Does she wish he did? Yes. "No." Are boys a distraction from Yale? Does he just want to fuck her? Does she want him to fuck her?

("You wish he did.")

It's an accusation. "So? You're not my dad," she scoffs, "if you hadn't noticed, my dad is busy trying to reaffirm to my crazy mom that he is "the one." Like I'm not even fucking here."

For maybe the first time, he drops it. He drops it and he wraps his arms around her. ("You're here, Nat.")

"I'm not here," she whispers softly, unsure of what to do in his arms, "not to them."

("I know you're here. Isn't that enough?")

She doesn't know what the answer is.

* * *

Two weeks pass and Henry is officially her boyfriend. She hates that word but she lets him call himself it anyways because his lips feel like playing classical music for hours but without the bleeding fingernails.

"He's my ... Boyfriend," she murmurs.

("... Oh.")

She's never heard him sound like that before. "Y — yeah."

("... Gabe.")

Her neck almost snaps to face him. "Huh?"

("My name is Gabe.")

She wants to tell him it's a little late for introductions (three years, seven months, and two days late) but her mouth won't open. There really is something wrong with her.

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Henry, there's ... Something I want to show you."

"What is it?"

"Look, you have to swear you won't laugh. Or call me crazy."

"Natalie, you're not crazy."

"You say that now but — "

"But nothing. You're not crazy."

"You're meeting my parents tonight — I don't care if you have irritable bowels, just don't show up high."

* * *

Dinner is fine for once. Diana is almost _stable_ and Dan is at least pretending to be happy. His voice in the back of her head laughs at the idea and she almost does too.

Strangely, no one protests to her taking Henry into her room. It only hurts if she thinks about it so she doesn't.

"Gabe?" She whispers, knocking on the closet door.

("What up, Nat? Your little boy toy done with meeting the family?")

She ignores him calling Henry her boy toy and Henry asking her what the hell is in her closet. "You promised not to call me crazy, right?"

"Yeah, but what's — "

"Too late, Henry. You promised. Gabe, if you'll come out of there — and I swear to God, if you're looking at my bras again, I'll kill you, _again_ — I'd like you to meet my boyfriend, you know. The one I told you about. Not that there are others," she inwardly cringes the more she talks.

("I'm not dead, Nat. How many times do I have to tell you that?")

She bites back her retort because now is not a good time to fight with him.

"There's a dead boy in your closet?" Henry asks, "holy shit, I only smoked a little before I came here."

("I'm not dead. I'm alive.")

She already regrets introducing him to Gabe.

Gabe just wants to rip his fucking heart out.

* * *

("You're on drugs and your _stoner_ boyfriend "doesn't understand." Break up with him.")

Too high to stand still, she growls a little. "You always say that. You just want me to dump him before he fucks me, right?"

("Don't be stupid.")

"Maybe I want to be stupid," she laughs, falling onto her bed.

("You're fucking crazy.")

Her giggling stops. She's _not_ crazy. She's _not_ fucking crazy. "Henry never says that."

("Because Henry is afraid to tell you the truth.")

He watches her cry until dawn. Then he can't stomach it anymore and wraps his arms around her. She dreams of the world burning to ashes and he doesn't dream at all.

* * *

Drugs are tiring. She feels so alive and she feels so dead. Natalie doesn't think she likes it all that much.

("Stop this then.")

"You know I can't," she tells him, "crazy people take pills."

("You're not crazy, Nat!")

She doesn't believe him so she takes some more valium and hopes Henry will understand.

* * *

Her recital is a disaster and she's a crying, giggling wreck of ruined makeup. Henry holds her on her bed, hoping the thrashing will stop.

("Let me hold her.")

"She's my girlfriend," Henry wheezes as she hits his kidneys.

("So? She calms down when I hold her.")

Henry doesn't respond for an hour. "You're going to destroy her."

("Maybe she wants to be destroyed.")

Or maybe Gabe wants to ruin her.

* * *

("You're not crazy.")

Her mother is cooking on the floor again.

("I promise you're not crazy.")

The pills are in piles based on color.

("Nat, you aren't crazy.")

Her father is trying his best and it's not working.

("You should know you aren't.")

"Maybe I want to be," she tells him, reaching for a pill.

("You're here, Nat, just stop.")

She doesn't take the pill so he calls her beautiful and holds her that night.

* * *

Some days he leaves the pills for her. She swears to God he's trying to kill her. She thinks she wants to die. Henry won't let her but she thinks she wants to.

She also thinks she loves Henry so who fucking knows what she wants?

("You want me.")

"I want to be free."

Maybe Gabe is freedom.

* * *

She doesn't see the lighter in his pocket. She tries to just look at the boy with the bong taking the Xanax from her.

* * *

 _reviews are love. give natalie some._


	2. Chapter 2

Every single story on this account revolving around incest, age gaps, and abuse is written by a survivor used purely to cope. Do not call them romantic or cute, abuse and incest is toxic and traumatizing. Shipping incest or abuse if you're not a survivor is gross as hell, fictional or not. I'd recommend not so you can truthfully say you're not a shitty person who romanticizes real people's hell.


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